


The Pirates' Ball

by Archaema



Series: The Pirate Queen and the Lord Admiral Ride the Storms [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Dancing, F/F, Lesbians, Pirate Queen AU, Winter Veil, sylvaina, the power of gay - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 16:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaema/pseuds/Archaema
Summary: In the mists, a small island plays host to one of the most infamous annual events on the high seas.Sylvanas, the Pirate Queen, has an open invitation to Lord Admiral Jaina Proudmoore, but what exactly will accepting it entail?





	The Pirates' Ball

**Author's Note:**

> A lovely winter holiday prompt from the people in discord.
> 
> You know the ones I mean. ;)

The mist hung heavy over the water as the brigandine crossed quietly over the waves, shrouding everything in gray that the midday sun made glow in unearthly auras.

“Five fathoms, by the deep,” came a man’s voice as he leaned over the bow railing of the ship. He held a rope in hand, a black mark etched in the side by his hand. A considerable length was coiled up next to him, while the rest was over the edge and sunken into the water.

“I see why they must like this place,” Jaina said, crossing her arms as she paced slowly along the forecastle of the ship. She glanced at the other figure beside them, a woman in a heavy woolen coat to ward off the chill and wetness. “Keep an eye out, it must be a deep anchorage, if her ship is here.”

“Aye, Lord Admiral,” the woman replied, nodding as she peered out. After another moment, she stretched up a leg and pulled herself onto the bow beam, as far to the front as she could.

The ship edged onward, cautiously slow in the luminescent fog.

“Four fathoms,” came the call.

“Three fathoms,” a few moments later.

“I see a ship,” the woman said, pointing out. “We’re almost on her.”

“All stop,” Jaina called out. “Lay anchor here.” At the command, the crew began a flurry of activity to lock down the sails and drop the heavy anchor to keep them from drifting.

“Shall we get the rower ready?” The man was coiling up the depth gauge, stretching his back as well.

“Go ahead and lower the boat,” Jaina replied, but shook her head with a dismissive wave. “I will go on alone. I’ll return by morning, most likely sooner.”  

“As you wish,” he answered with a nod.

A few minutes later, Jaina was lowering herself by rope ladder down the side of the ship. Her boots hit the hull of the long boat, which barely wobbled in the water beneath her practiced balance. She stepped to the middle, and knelt on the bench, sweeping her coat out of the way. Holding up a hand, she reached out with her senses to gather mana.

With a simple flick of her wrist and quiet word, she invoked the flows of the current so she could both see it and borrow it to push the boat onward. Almost immediately, she felt her destination beyond a dozen anchored ships.

Silently, the sea carried her to the docks.

The mist rolled and flowed, unwilling to recede before the sun’s onslaught until the boat bumped gently against the shore, alongside one of the deeper docks. She could finally see something beyond the length of the boat in front of her, and let out a quiet sigh of relief.

The first matter was how to make an entrance.

Above, Jaina could hear the bustle of pirates as they made their way from the docks inland. It was more crowded than she had expected when the Pirate Queen had bestowed on her her invitation, but it was also the only place she had found any reference in the historical records of having a province that was no longer on the rolls as inhabited.

Fallowmire Isle had ceased to be listed on the rolls of populated lands even before Alterac had betrayed the Alliance against the Horde, the unified Pirate Kingdoms, in years long since past.  The last few surveys were sparse, indicating that the fishing had gone bad and navigation had grown too difficult in the gloom.

In hindsight, it made perfect sense that it would have been made a home to the pirates.

If that were the case, though, there was no fun or gain showing herself casually to the ones who were not her reason to be there.

Jaina pulled in arcane power and guided it, warping the light around her and swirling it until she became unseen to the naked eye. The world was pallid and ghostly as she ascended toward the level of the docks.

With caution, she wove her way between the clusters of pirates of all kinds. She passed elves and dwarves, humans and orcs, even a few gnomes. At least one tall, slender Nightborne she recognized as she slipped around them, giving a healthy buffer between herself and the wizard.

Somehow, Sylvanas’s band of pirates was not just a simple motley convenience. It was nearly a nation on the seas of its own. Not a match for the Kul’tiran fleet, to be sure, but easily able to shame the navies of many other nations.

A worn road was carved into the surprisingly grassy land of the island past the craggy docks, free of more than a few specs of the hard, nearly black stone that made up its foundation. She found herself skirting around a few more groups until she fell in just behind a trio heading for what looked to be a functioning small town not far in the distance.

For a moment, Jaina thought she might glean something useful from their conversation, but the two elven women, of different branches of that tree, and their companion, another woman but human, instead seemed to be talking about finding a suitable room for the night. If nothing else, at least she knew that proper sleeping quarters were at a premium on the small island.

It made her sigh, though she caught herself before it became audible. As if to challenge her dedication to remaining hidden and keeping her reactions to their talk concealed, the conversation took a decidedly salacious turn.

_Are they really talking about sticking fingers and tongues in-_

A horn sounded in the distance. Jaina felt like she had lept her own height straight into the air, clutching at her chest for a moment as she searched for the source of the low bellow.

“That’s the fifteen minute warning,” one of them said, grabbing a hand from each of the others and beginning to hurriedly drag them along. “Move it, move it, we still have to change!”

At least Jaina had come dressed for the occasion.

She squinted to check the surroundings of the small town, and found that, with the fog lifted, the island was almost all visible. It could not have been more than a few miles in diameter, and sure enough, she spied a building off to her right, on the western coast of the island, that looked solitary and forlorn. Gnarled, leafless trees surrounded it, though not enough to obscure the Gilnean architecture.

It was there that she headed, still maintaining the cloak of invisibility around herself. _They’ll see me when I decide it is time_ , she told herself, unable to stop a smug grin from forming. _What exactly did that woman drag me into?_

When she heard the first strains of music, she raised an eyebrow.

Every sailor knew sea shanties and tunes for work, of course, but it was no such thing that she heard.

Strings and winds, upbeat in a flowing waltz drifted out the front of the governor’s mansion, greeting Jaina as she stepped past the overgrown hedges that marked the perimeter of the estate. At least a few had pieces of tattered cloth held tight by unyielding thorns, likely from unwelcome pilferers over the decades.

“Now that’s a curious tune,” she murmured under her breath as she slipped by a tall man and woman, human and orc respectively, and drew near the door. _So this is her game._

It all made sense, suddenly.

There were rumors, of course, speculating on how the pirates had their own observations of certain holidays and events. Winter’s Veil was one such days, but the idea that they would have a proper mansion with a gathering was something Jaina had never expected. There was no time to speculate, however, as the great hall she saw through the open double doors was rapidly filling with surprisingly well-dressed pirates.

One elf wore a long, flowing jacket of crimson with a swooping gold falcon on the back, reminiscent of the royal navy of the Sin’dorei, but it had been altered to add a black chain winding around the bird. A tall troll, standing proudly with her hair braided, wore a sailor’s shirt of finest tailoring, gold thread set against the black fabric and perfectly fit to her. Opposite them, she spied a Pandaren woman, her outfit gilded with fine jewels and silver threading.

The wealth was staggering.

 _This is what the Pirate Queen has built_ , Jaina thought, eyes wide as she slipped through the crowd carefully. _But where is the woman herself?_

“As you all know,” said a dour voice at the balcony above, “it is our custom to put aside grudges and plots on this, the ceremonial end of the year.” The man’s glowing red eyes were unfamiliar to Jaina, but his long coat, black and trimmed and silver, seemed fine as any naval overcoat she had seen. “Dance, drink, but don’t piss on the damn floor, you dogs.”

“Thank you for that… stirring introduction, Nathanos.”

There was the voice that Jaina recognized from their encounter aboard the _Banshee Queen_.

Stepping out along the deck, Sylvanas’s boots were deathly silent. She had not bothered to button up the loose-fitting black shirt beneath the royal purple coat she wore. The gold embroidery, down to the skull-shaped buttons that decorated it, glimmered in the glow of the oil lanterns that were hung along all the walls. Her sword was settled at her hilt, fine details in the guard and hilt that seemed so simple at first glance.

The pale blond hair of the Pirate Queen was wild and free, sea-swept, creating a wild fringe that framed her faintly glowing red eyes as they swept over the assembled crowd below. They landed on Nathanos, who bowed deeply in greeting.

“My Queen,” he said, as he stepped back to allow her to approach the balcony.

“I’m sure they can behave themselves for one single night.” As she came to a halt and a turned to face her crews, she drew out her last words. They were a pointed threat as much as they were a vote of confidence in the assembled members of her ad hoc fleet, accompanied by a sly grin.

Jaina found herself staring from the thankfully safe shroud of her magic. In her own way, Sylvanas was every bit a woman of rank and power in the same vein as Jaina. It was common knowledge that the Pirate Queen and her minions were a force to be reckoned with on the seas, but to see it there, out in the open so plainly, was a different thing entirely.

“I extend my warmest welcome to all, from the lowest deck hand to the best commodores who have had the good sense to ally with the Forsaken Fleet,” she said, her words low and elocuted despite the smooth quality of her tone. It was the voice of a leader, lain over poison. “Without further ado, let the Pirates’ Ball commence.” She produced a pistol from her belt, its wood worn and the silver fittings tarnished, and held it up. With a burst of smoke and loud crack, she fired it toward the ceiling.

“My queen,” came a voice from below, as the music began. It was a similar waltz to the one that had welcomed the mass into the mansion, but it was greeted by a hushed murmuration of confusion, as the pirates turned to look at who had dared interject on the tail of the queen’s opening.

“I was told in strictest confidence that you invited someone to this ball, tonight,” said the tall man. His voice was strong, and carried well in the large room. With a slow gesture, he pulled down a great, blue-feathered hat from atop his bald head and bowed it slightly. “Someone of most unusual credentials and rank.”

“Your point?” Sylvanas replied. If a woman could have possibly appeared more disinterested and offended at once, Jaina had never seen it. The way she looked down her nose at the man was caustic.

“In the spirit of the occasion and its forbearance of grudges under the Pirates’ Code,” he said, “I would respectfully ask if that is an entirely competent decision? It seems something might have compromised your judgment in this case. I would not-”

Jaina barely saw the motion as Sylvanas reached to her back, under her coat, to whip out a smaller pistol. She heard the crack as it was fired. A lance of drifting smoke linked Sylvanas and the man for briefest of moments before it began to carry away on the gentle draft that flowed from the doors and deteriorating windows.

Jaina found herself strangely calm; cannon and gunfire was no uncommon thing to her. It was the ruthlessness that gave her any pause at all. _Pirates_ , she reminded herself, and briefly she was forced to wonder if what she was doing was utterly ridiculous.

She decided it was quite ridiculous indeed.

“A code I wrote and reserve the right to modify at any time, Captain DeMeza.” Sylvanas held the pistol and examined it, before deftly pulling a small leather powder bag from her belt. She stood, attention focused on the weapon as she poured the black grains into the barrel. “As the final arbiter of that code, I reserve the right to ignore your question, and punish you for your impertinence, despite the festive occasion.”

Her fingers deftly rolled a round shot and then pushed it into place in the pistol, which then found itself nestled back in its home in the small nook at the small of her back.

“LaCroix,” she said, eyes drifting over the crowd and finding her intended target. “You will assume Captain DeMeza’s place and duties, along with his appropriate compensation.”

The tall woman, who appeared to be a normal human as best Jaina could make out, opened her mouth to speak.

“In the spirit of the occasion,” Jaina said, her voice carrying through the room easily in the quiet, “I promise you I will not disclose anything of this place or its purpose.”

“Ah, Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas said, as a new silence overtook the room. There was anxious shuffling. Hands found swords hilts and pistols, wary eyes in every direction. “I was wondering if you would act on the invitation you so boldly won.” Her demeanor shifted from derision to wry amusement, her arms crossing as she leaned forward on the balcony railing.

“It was an intriguing offer, from an intriguing woman.” Jaina let her illusion drop, the invisibility whispering away quietly.

The low bow, with a sweep of the Lord Admiral’s arm, was a gesture Sylvanas had seen once already. It brought an unexpected throb in her chest, an ache she found deeply unfamiliar. The sound of steel against scabbards and the cocking of pistols drew her attention out of her reverie, much to her annoyance. She pushed it aside quickly.

“By all means, try it,” Sylvanas said, giving a single, dismissive laugh. “Break the rules, and I’ll punish you personally.” The irony of her declaration was not lost on those below, perhaps, but neither was it questioned.

Jaina let her hand settle on the hilt of her sabre, the azure gem flaring to life briefly as she coalesced tendrils of arcane power.

“Assuming, of course,” Sylvanas added slowly and with naked bemusement, “that the Lord Admiral leaves anything of you left to punish.”

“I did not come here to fight or on business, as you well know,” Jaina said, eyes demanding Sylvanas meet her gaze. The blue of the sky that locked with that cursed red blazed with intensity, determination unvarnished. “As I now understand the occasion, there can be only one purpose for you inviting me.”

Sylvanas tilted her head and gave a hum of acknowledgement, inviting Jaina to finish.

The Lord Admiral raised a hand, offering her white gloved grip to the Banshee Queen.

The first step as Sylvanas straightened herself and turned to walk toward the staircase that led down to the landing was uncharacteristically loud. It was a show of her intent, throwing her normal lithe stealthiness aside.

“Proudmoore,” Sylvanas said, as she began to descend toward her, “let us put on a grand show for all my worthy attendees.”

“I’m not here to put on a show for them,” Jaina said, hand still waiting.

Sylvanas paused as her foot hit the landing, taking in the woman who had gone to such lengths for something that seemed so bizarre.

Braided as before, Jaina’s hair was swept back but for the errant bangs that danced before her eyes. Her firm jawline and cheekbones glowed under the light of the oil lanterns, but their sharpness denied any chance of seeing her as some naive young girl. There was no doubt of the strength she held, from the Kul’tiran anchor that marked the collar of her captain’s coat. Blue, finely tailored fabric embroidered with gold thread and buttons, there was no mistaking her station.

But the station did not make the woman.

The power in her stance, from the way her she stood with her feet apart, sheathed in fine boots, and rested her other hand on the pommel of her sabre, said far more than her dashing apparel ever could.

“Of course not,” Sylvanas said, licking her lips once before she lifted her hand to take Jaina’s. The woman before her hardly seemed real. Her hand, though, felt very tangible and warm, even through the glove.

Side by side, they stepped down from the landing to the dance floor that made up the center of the mansion’s grand hall. The space around them grew, as the assembled pirates gave a wide berth to the pair. Not a single gaze failed to be upon them.

“Velonara, if you would be so kind,” Sylvanas said, before she offered a single, small nod to Jaina. “I do hope you can keep up.”

“Please, I caught you once already,” Jaina replied, a smug smirk passing over her lips. Sylvanas barely opened her mouth, a quick breath precluding a retort when the music struck up, a strong drum beat rolling through the room. Velonara, hood fallen back to reveal her silver hair and long ears, moved her arms in time to direct at least a dozen musicians.

The time was not the standard of a waltz, but the steady rhythm gave all the guidance they needed. The first step nearly brought a collision, as both tried to lead off, their feet going for the same space. Jaina huffed a quick laugh at the scuff of boots, then fell back slightly, even offering the quickest of bows.

“How considerate,” Sylvanas said quickly, her hand slipping out to take Jaina’s opposite one. They began a circling series of careful steps, falling into harmony almost instantly.

“You’re more talented than I expected,” Jaina said, reeled in close as they began to move more swiftly. “At least, of a pirate.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Jaina Proudmoore.” Sylvanas laid her hand against Jaina’s waist, pulling her close for a moment before they spun back to a normal distance. “You’re quite the improviser, though, aren’t you?”

“My teachers called me studious, so I branched out.”

“This is quite a long limb.”

“So it is,” Jaina said. The eyes upon them had not lost interest, for the way they and their coats swayed in synchronized graceful motion gave no reason to look away. Surreal and unearthly was the sight before them, as the Lord Admiral and the Pirate Queen danced as if they were in the most stately of noble functions.

“I’ll be honest, though. This is as far as my plan ever went.” Jaina gave a half-grin, before pursing her lips in the faintest of apologetic quirks.

Sylvanas pulled Jaina close, and then dipped her back, leaning in toward her perilously close. The strength in the Pirate Queen’s arms was surprising, and Jaina found herself unexpectedly comforted there.

“I do believe we are both without a scheme, for once,” Sylvanas said, words ghosting along the exposed skin of Jaina’s collar.

“So improvise,” Jaina said, as Sylvanas pulled her back up.

A dangerous gleam flashed in Sylvanas’s eyes.  

“Oh,” Jaina said, as she caught the look. “Now I’m curious.”

The music swelled, and they swept along in the climax of the drums and strings. Feet tapped from around the room, reinforcing the power of the music.

Sylvanas leaned forward and caught Jaina behind her thighs, then pulled and lifted. She dipped her as before, but swept her cleanly off the floor instead of letting her keep her footing.

Jaina watched in rapt fascination as Sylvanas’s wild hair flowed like a slow moving comet closing the distance toward her, only halting when their lips collided. She felt the electric charge in the contact, as darkly painted lips met Jaina’s rose-colored ones in turn. She caught as Sylvanas’s eyes widened for a split second in surprise, though whether it was in surprise at her own escalation of their dance or something else she could not tell.

They lingered for a long moment, the music dying behind them as the whole room fell into utter silence.

Outside, a disrespectful crow cawed into the dying rays of dusk.

Sylvanas straightened herself, pulling Jaina upright with her and setting her back on her feet carefully. Running a hand along her leather belt, she tugged slightly at her tanned leather slacks. Her eyes narrowed suddenly, as if remembering all the onlookers. She swept her vision over them, as though they were uninvited invaders in some private moment.

Which indeed they were.

Sylvanas felt a heat and an ache she barely remembered racing in her veins, even through the lingering mockery of the curse lain upon her years before.

“This is a ball,” Sylvanas said, her voice strong and belying the hesitance in her heart. “Do I need to do another dance with the Lord Admiral to show you how it’s done, or are you lot smarter than a guppy and can figure it out for yourselves? Velonara! Next!”

There was a scramble of motion, and couples paired off all around the dance floor, indeed even a few groups of three and four gathered. Soon, the strains of a new song, quick and simple, were guiding the feet of the groups.

Sylvanas turned and made for the exit that set behind the grand landing of the stairway. Her boots struck the ground loudly, the sound lost in the din of reverie.

Jaina had to scramble to follow her, elbowing more than a couple of dancers out of her way in her hurried pursuit.

Sylvanas was already outside, the night air clear in the small garden that overlooked the sea. Stars looked down from above, still giving beauty to the ill-tended flower beds and topiaries. The side doors of the once-governor’s mansion were still grand as they had been the day the place had been abandoned. They were built with exquisite craftsmanship that Jaina paid not the slightest mind toward as she passed them.

“I know, by the way,” Jaina said quietly. She took Sylvanas’s hand in hers, warm against chill skin. “The one who cursed you.”

Sylvanas’s step faltered for a split second. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she swallowed past it. Her faintly glowing red eyes glared as she turned her head but a fraction to see the Lord Admiral’s blue irises meeting hers.

“You know of him?” Sylvanas breathed, voice so deathly quiet that Jaina would have needed to struggle to hear it; if she had not known the words already. The long ears of the Pirate Queen drooped, along with her shoulders.

“I knew him, yes.”

There was something impossible to parse about the expression Jaina wore in her response. There was surely no pride there, instead a matter-of-factness and something else. Deep in her eyes, a glimmer of frustration and regret.

“I don’t believe you.” Sylvanas stopped and gripped the railing of the balcony, the old wood creaking under her.

“Arthas.”

Sylvanas squeezed her eyes shut, a growl dying in her throat. No one could see her face there, only the bleakness of a calm ocean.

“I thought, for a moment, that this was some strange dream, even if I do not often dream anymore,” Sylvanas said, voice barely any louder than the sea below. “Instead, you’ve brought me a nightmare.” It was the same way it ever ended. In the back of her mind, she knew her pirate alliance would crumble some day, as well.

“No,” Jaina replied. “I want two things, and I hoped they would mirror your desires.”

“You want to die in peace?”

“When I first saw you, I didn’t realize the common thread. I followed you all the way across the seas for one thing, and that was to meet a beautiful woman.” Jaina’s hand came to rest on Sylvanas’s shoulder. She felt the woman shivering for a moment under her fingers, but the touch seemed to radiate calm through her. “When I looked into your history, I realized we also have a common goal. For me, it’s justice. For you…”

Jaina set her jaw, and reached up to guide Sylvanas’s chin with a gentle press of her closed hand and thumb.

“Revenge. And a way forward, a chance at different feelings.”

Sylvanas looked into Jaina’s eyes. Her tongue played against one of her fangs, and then she tilted her head slightly, ears perking up and shifting toward her.

“You have my attention, Jaina.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked this piece or others I've created, and feel free to leave any constructive criticism in comments here or in asks at our tumblrs, including if you spy a missing tag or typos (they're evil):  
> http://archaema.tumblr.com/  
> http://offkeelworld.tumbr.com/


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